ished a hope of his salvation. Just before he left the world he looked up and said, "Father, I am dying." His father then, in allusion to what he had previously heard him say respecting his submission to God and hope in his mercy, inquired if his trust and confidence in God remained unshaken. He replied in the affirmative. Then said his father, "Your passage is short, and, if you are not deceived, your rest in heaven will be glorious." The son expired. Shortly after, the father offered a prayer, in the room where lay the remains of his departed son, apparently full of submission and trust in God. So perfect was his composure, that once only was his utterance choked by the depth of his emotions. God evidently granted him peculiar consolation in this trying hour. And now there is no mystery in the extraordinary support and consolation which he then enjoyed; for it has since been ascertained that a number of his church, anticipating the fearful result of his son's sickness, had met weekly to unite their prayers that he might be sustained under the approaching calamity.

Within less than three years of the death of this son, his daughter Sarah, who had taken the principal care of him, and whose strength had often been exhausted by her unremitting attention to his wants, began to decline. She was now the only child that remained with her parents at home. Her presence and aid in the family seemed peculiarly desirable, previously to the death of her brother, but afterwards indispensable. When her health first began to fail, strong hopes were entertained that she might be restored. Some who knew the circumstances of her aged parents, and had sympathized with them in the trying scenes through which they had passed, could hardly believe that God would bereave them of all their children, and leave them as it were alone, in their declining years. ways were not their ways, nor his thoughts their thoughts. Though every means within the reach of her friends was used for the removal of her disease, it still continued, and gained strength, until it put a period to her valuable life. In this instance, Dr. Emmons was called to endure again, essentially, the same affliction which was brought upon him by the death of his son. This daughter, like him, was amiable and judicious, and peculiarly useful. Her devotion to the welfare of her parents, and the skill with which she managed the concerns of the family, were truly remarkable. The loss which they must sustain in her untimely removal, seemed irreparable. But alas! this was not their greatest trial even in her case. They were obliged to see her, as they had seen their two other children before her, descending to the grave without the consolation of hope. Their hearts were again wrung with anguish. Again

they endeavored to lead a graceless child to Christ. Again they sought the Lord in behalf of one who was soon to leave the world. And again the Lord heard their prayers. From the following extract of a letter, in which her father announces her death to a distant relative, it will be seen that he mourned not as those who have no hope. "I believe that she had but very little expectation of living for more than six months before she died. All that time her mind was seriously impressed; but she did not entertain a hope of having right views and feelings till about two months before she left the world. Ever after she first found light, she continued to enjoy it, which gave her great peace and tranquillity of mind as long as she lived. She conversed very freely about the state of her mind, and of her prospects beyond the grave. She seemed to regret leaving the world, principally on account of her aged parents. But the wise and holy Disposer of all things has been disposed to deny the gratification of her desires and ours. She is gone and we are left to lament her loss." When his other daughter died, he had five children left, and four of them were in his own family. When his son died, although the staff on which he leaned was taken away, he still had one child whose presence prevented in some degree his sense of loneliness, and whose filial regard and attentions greatly alleviated the pains of his bereavement. But when this daughter died, he and his feeble companion were left alone, without a child at home to participate in their grief, or to lighten the burden of their cares.

The good providence of God preserved his wife for several years after the death of his daughter. But on the second day of August, 1829, this relict of his family was taken away. This was a solemn and trying day to him. It not only separated him from a companion whom he tenderly loved, and highly esteemed, and who had been a partaker of his joys and sorrows for almost fifty years; but deprived him of the aid which her kind attention and care had so long afforded him. Though feeble in health, and for many years unable to walk except with the assistance of crutches, yet such were her habits of industry and care, so well did she "look to the ways of her household," that she was felt to be peculiarly useful to the very close of her life. Dr. Emmons knew and appreciated her worth. He often said, in reference to the almost mysterious manner in which his temporal wants had been supplied, "My wife has supported me." When he saw her descending to the grave, he felt that a day of calamity had come. The following letter to her brother, John Hopkins, Esq., of Northampton, will show both his estimation of her character, and the depth of the afflic

tion which he suffered.

"Dear Brother: The last Sabbath, about four o'clock in the morning, Mrs. Emmons exchanged that day of rest, I hope and believe, for 'that rest which remaineth to the people of God.' Your loss is great, but mine is irreparable. I am emphatically a pilgrim and stranger on the earth, having neither father nor mother, nor brother nor sister, nor uncle nor aunt living. I am left alone to bear the heaviest affliction I have ever been called to bear, in an evil time. Though I enjoy usual health, yet the decays of nature and the infirmities of old age render me less able to bear troubles and sorrows than I was in former days, when I was called to suffer breach after breach in my family; therefore this last and widest breach seems destined to bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to my grave. I sympathize with you, and I know you will sympathize with me. You knew the excellent character of your sister, but I knew more of her excellence, worth, and importance to me. She was indeed a rich blessing to me, and to her family, and to her people, among whom I believe she never had a single enemy. She was eminently a pattern of patience, meekness, and submission during a long life of peculiar trials, bodily infirmities, pains and distresses. She was but I forbear. Her health was visibly declining through the Winter and Spring, but we did not view her immediately dangerous until the Tuesday before she died. She was apparently struck with death Saturday evening, but did not expire till morning. She retained her senses to the last, and left the world, not in triumph, but in that hope which was an anchor to her soul, both sure and steadfast. You and Mrs. Hopkins will, I hope, in your best moments remember your aged and bereaved brother.

NATH'L EMMONS."

Under this bereavement, however, he was calm, collected and submissive; an object of admiration to such as beheld the composure with which he sustained the shock, and of deep and compassionate interest, to all who considered his great age and lonely condition. He was now in his eighty-fifth year. His surviving children were all settled abroad. Those whom he had expected would continue with him, and be his solace and support in his declining years, were now all in the grave. He had no connections in his family, or in the town, but an aged sister of his late wife, to beguile his hours of solitude, or extend to him the attention and care which at this age he evidently needed. Though an event of divine providence not long after occurred, which brought back his eldest daughter to the paternal roof; yet it was an event which in some measure aggravated his trials. It was the sudden death of her amiable and worthy husband, WILLARD GAY, Esq. of Dedham, to whom he was warmly attached, and whose occasional visits and kind attentions he highly appreciated. This affecting event occur

ing at a time when her health was feeble, proved too much for her delicate constitution. Both body and mind seemed to sink under the overwhelming pressure; and for a time, it was doubtful whether either would recover from the shock. Though a kind providence did preserve her, and eventually restore her health and spirits, yet it will at once be seen that her circumstances then must have been peculiarly trying to her aged father, meeting him as they did in the midst of his own heavy afflictions. But in all these trials he was not only composed and submissive, but uniformly cheerful and apparently happy. He was accustomed to notice the hand of God in all the events of his life, and appeared to rejoice in his goodness in the day of adversity, as well as in the day of prosperity.

On the eighteenth day of September, 1831, he was married to Mrs. ABIGAIL M. MILLS, the widow of the late Rev. EDMUND MILLS, of Sutton. This lady now survives him. To the care with which she watched over him, as the infirmities of age continued to multiply, and to the constancy and kindness with which she attended to all his wants, was he much indebted for the quietness and comfort of his last days.

CHAPTER VIII.

HIS VISIT TO NEW YORK.

GRADUAL DECLINE. SICKNESS AND
DEATH.

DR. EMMONS always loved home. The retirement and quietness of his own dwelling were more congenial to his studious disposition and habits, than any scenes abroad that are attended with the noise and confusion of the multitude. As he advanced in life, his indisposition to go from home evidently increased; after he retired from the active duties of his office, he had much time at his own disposal, and his health was sufficiently firm and vigorous to enable him to perform a journey of almost any length, without injury. But social as was his disposition, and much as he enjoyed the society of his friends, he still preferred his study and his books to the enjoyments of the most inviting scenes abroad. He did, however, at the earnest solicitation of his friends, make a number of journeys, of considerable length, after he was ninety years old. In the

spring of 1835, he received a very polite invitation from Messrs. GEORGE DOUGLAS, and EDWARD A. RUSSELL, of the city of New York, then entire strangers to him, to visit the city at the time of the anniversaries, and to make their houses his home. These gentlemen having read his works with great satisfaction, and heard much of him from the lips of his friends, were exceedingly desirous of seeing him, and paying him the personal respect which they felt for his character and works. They accordingly wrote him a joint letter, inviting him, with such of his friends as he might wish to have accompany him, to visit the city, the week previous to the anniversaries, and to remain with them as long as he could make it convenient and pleasant to stay. At first, he seemed to have no idea that he could go so far from home; and said, humorously, that the thought of it proved that he was so far superannuated as to need to be taken care of. But after receiving the advice of his friends on the subject, he concluded to go; and returned an affirmative answer to the invitation which he had received. Messrs. Douglas and Russell immediately sent him another letter, in which they expressed their high satisfaction at his acceptance of their offer, and enclosed one hundred dollars which they begged him. to accept, as the means of relieving him from the expenses of his intended journey. On his arrival at New York, the gentlemen who had solicited the favor of his visit to the city, were waiting for him upon the wharf. After an introduction to them, he was conducted to the house of Mr. Douglas, which he made his home for several days, and then removed to Mr. Russell's. At each of these places, he was treated with marked attention and respect. The above named gentlemen and their families spared no pains or expense to render his visit to the city pleasant to him, and to those who accompanied him. They were taken to the different parts of the city, and shown the various objects of interest and curiosity which this great emporium presents to the stranger. They were introduced to many individuals and families of distinction; and wherever they went, it was gratifying to perceive with what cordiality and respect this aged divine was received. His great age, his extraordinary activity both of body and mind, and especially the antiquated form of his costume, would naturally excite the attention and curiosity of the multitude. But among the more intelligent, especially of the friends of religious truth, it was apparent that his eminence as a divine, was the great source both of the curiosity and respect with which he was every where beheld.

He attended the meetings of most of the benevolent societies which were held in the day time, and appeared to enjoy these exercises highly. He was earnestly solicited to take